


i now know my name

by theurbanspaceboi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming of Age, Could Be Canon, Friendship, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Sirius Black, Transgender, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theurbanspaceboi/pseuds/theurbanspaceboi
Summary: there is an "f" on sirius black's birth certificate. it is a mistake.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	i now know my name

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends,
> 
> i can honestly say i am astonished to find myself, a grown man with minimal experience in the area of fanfiction, or fiction writing in general, posting on a fanfiction site. further, i am shocked that my first foray into this world is a harry potter fic. 
> 
> i began my journey into the wizarding world no more than a month ago. as a child i did not read the books or watch the movies; as an adult i felt odd about reading a series intended for children. finally, spurred by friends who love harry potter deeply even into adulthood, i bought the series and began reading. 
> 
> about five days ago i was most of the way through order of the phoenix when i learned that j. k. rowling, author, is transphobic, as demonstrated by tweets and most recently, an article on her website.
> 
> i was deeply disappointed and my enjoyment of the series was nearly diminished. i finished order of the phoenix and avoided half-blood prince for a few days, unsure how i felt. i wanted to speak against rowling's hurtful opinions, but i didn't want to add to the ever-growing collection of tweets saying “fuck jkr.” 
> 
> it occurred to me that storytelling might be the best format in which to express my feelings on the matter. after all, rowling did rise to fame by telling a story.
> 
> inspired, i set to work writing a short story in which on of rowling's characters is a trans man. this is the result. 
> 
> …
> 
> some housekeeping:
> 
> topics such as dysphoria, transmasculine bodies, and transphobia are present in this fic. i am a trans man and have drawn from my experiences. 
> 
> finally, you are all valid and badass. i know many teens and young adults frequent this site, some of whom are trans. i implore you, please don't allow bigoted opinions to affect you. you know who you are. 
> 
> have a great day, stay weird, and thank you for tolerating this overlong author's note.

sirius black is born in dark, dreary november, in the house his family has lived in for centuries.

his mother does not cry. she does not indicate that she is in any pain or even vaguely uncomfortable in the slightest. her expression is even, her voice controlled.

sirius cries, as all babies do after they are born. babies must cry at their births; it is necessary to facilitate breathing outside the womb.

his mother frowns her disapproval. crying is weakness in her mind, even in babies. emotion is weakness.

they give sirius a name. it is not the right name.

they put an "f" on his birth certificate.

"a girl," they inform parties interested in their child. "our daughter, meissa."

...

sirius is five when he finds scissors in the attic.

they are very large and heavy scissors. once, they may have been sharp and gilded in gold. now they are dull and rusty. they show no sign of magic.

he does not care that they are rusty or heavy or dull as he uses them to hack his ponytail off.

he has finished his work, his hair chopped short, if unevenly, when his mother bursts into the attic. there is fear in her eyes. kreacher trails behind her; he must have betrayed sirius to her.

"meissa!" she cries. her voice is half angry and half relieved. she drops to her knees and takes the scissors out of his hands. "you could have hurt yourself," she says, putting her arms around him. "what were you doing with scissors?"

"cutting my hair."

she takes him by the shoulders and examines his work. her expression shifts from concern to anger.

"why? why would you do this?"

sirius doesn't know.

"answer me, young lady."

something is wrong when she calls him young lady but he's not sure what.

he has nothing to say. no explanation.

she clears the remnants of his ponytail from the floor with a flick of her wand and guides him out of the attic by his shoulder with a bit more force than is necessary. she radiates anger.

the black velvet bow that was in his hair lays forgotten on the floor.

sirius does not cut his hair again for a long time.

...

sirius black is nine, and he knows his name.

...

sirius is eleven when he tells his parents his name.

his mother cries. he has never seen her cry.

his father is silent, his expression unreadable. he leaves the house shortly after.

he returns later that day and places a small, slender bottle containing a thick maroon potion in sirius' hand.

“what is it?”

“it will slow the onset of puberty,” his father explains, “but not stop it.”

“thank you,” sirius whispers.

“it is all i can do for now. when you are older, there will be more options.”

the potion tastes foul but sirus doesn't care.

...

his hogwarts letter is addressed to sirius black.

his heart jumps in his chest.

nobody at school need know his secret.

…

"boys, this way!" calls the gryffindor prefect, directing first year boys towards their dormitory. sirius stomps up the stairs, daring them to reject him. the knot in his stomach disappears when he sees his trunk by a bed, alongside the other boys' beds and trunks.

he's home.

...

sirius is thirteen. it is four in the morning. his inner thighs are damp and hot and sticky.

he has never had a period before.

he knew it would come, but some part of him hoped that somehow, his treacherous body would recognize that he is a boy and not subject him to it.

his hope was foolish. he is bleeding. his throat feels tight.

"lumiosa" he mutters, flicking his wand, and surveys the damage. his sheets and blankets are streaked with blood.

he quietly gathers clothes. there's a box of pads hidden in the bottom of his trunk.

sirius stands in the shower for twenty minutes. he folds his arms across his chest. it is not as flat as it should be.

he does not know what to do now.

he dresses in clean pajamas and stands, conflicted, at the door of the dormitory. maybe he should sleep on a couch in the common room.

maybe he doesn't belong here at all. boys don't have periods.

a bed creaks and remus lupin is up. his eyes meet sirius's in the dark and the lights come on. james potter is awake now too.

lupin surveys the bloodied sheets as potter fumbles for his glasses. longbottom and pettigrew are stirring.

sirius feels that his knees might give in at any moment.

they're all going to know now. he doesn't belong here.

"what's going on?" potter says, and then he sees the blood. he turns, concerned, to sirius.

"black had a nosebleed," lupin says, pulling his wand from the chest pocket of his pajamas. "go to sleep."

potter sleepily nods, and pettigrew pulls the covers back over his head. lupin waves his wand and the lights go out.

sirius and remus peel the sheets and blankets off together, leaving them in a heap on the floor for the house elves to collect in the morning.

it is five in the morning.

"i didn't really have a nosebleed," sirius whispers.

"i know,"

"are you upset?"

"why would i be?"

"boys don't. bleed." there's a knot in his stomach again.

"you do, and you're a boy," remus says. the knot melts.

sirius sleeps next to him that night.

...

his animagus form is male. as it should be. dysphoria fades when he is a dog.

...

sirius is fifteen but almost sixteen and kisses a girl at eleven-thirty at night in the astronomy tower. he smiles into her neck as he kisses her there. she pushes him gently against a wall, helping him loosen his tie. he balls it and puts it in his pocket as she unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off his shoulders.

"what's this?" she asks, tracing one long, feminine finger down the center of his binder.

his voice is deep and his body angular and his jaw hard. he even has the beginnings of a beard, all thanks to a mix of potions and charms, but his chest his not flat.

“binder,” he says, kissing her collarbone now. she slides her hands up his back, under it, and reaches to pull it over his head. she must not know what a binder is. he stops her with a hand. “want to keep it on,” he says, feeling awkward. he wants to claw his skin off whenever he happens to catch a glimpse of his not-flat chest in the mirror; he does not care for anyone to else to see or touch it.

"why..." she starts, and then she understands.

she recoils, stepping away from him. his shirt is abandoned on the floor near her feet.

"what the hell," she says. "you're a girl. what the hell."

"i'm far too handsome to be a girl," he says, grinning lopsidedly, grasping for a quip or a story or an explanation that will make this okay.

she is crying. angry tears.

"what are you," she asks, taking another step back. "trans?"

"yeah."

"fucking disgusting."

sirius is rarely silent but he does not know what to say.

she shakes her head angrily. "you tricked me. sick. you're sick." and storms off.

he returns to the dorms.

...

the whole school knows his secret by morning.

he feels disgusting and unwanted and wrong.

...

james hexes the girl who outed sirius. she vomits slugs for no less than a week.

...

his mother genders him correctly for the first time.

"do we need a trip to diagon?" his father asks, standing in the kitchen, looking over some papers.

"sirius needs new books," his mother replies, "and his robes are a bit short."

warmth fills sirius' chest. he thinks about it for a long time.

...

sirius is sixteen and panting, laughing, tongue lolling out as he shifts from dog to man, collapsing in the grass near james. peter is right behind sirius, shifting too.

"i could stand to eat," sirius says, feeling suddenly ravenous as the last bits of canine disappear and his humanity clicks into place.

"i'll have to run by the shops and pick up some dog kibble," james jokes. sirius laughs.

"works for for both of us," remus says, voice still rough and wolfish. they know his snarl to be mirthful, a werewolf's laugh.

"where are our clothes?" peter asks softly. he is pale and ghostly in the dark.

james sits up. "they're here somewhere aren't they?"

they are not. sirius recalls leaving their clothes in another hidden spot, unfortunately on the other side of the castle. james laughs it off. "it's late, what's a quick run to the dorms?"

sirius curls his knees to his body and folds his arms across his offending not-flat chest.

remus sits beside him. "james," he announces authoritatively, "you and peter can run to the dorms. bring sirius and i clothes."

peter grouses, but understanding crosses james' face and he drags peter by the wrist.

sirius idly tugs pieces of grass. 

"soon," lupin says. "you're nearly seventeen."

the feeling of wrongness grows worse every day closer to seventeen. he is not able to look in mirrors any more.

"soon," he agrees, but it feels so far away.

…

it is sirius' seventeen birthday and he is spending it at st mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries.

“there will be some pain,” a healer tells him. “it will last throughout the transformation. seven or eight hours, i expect.”

eight hours of pain and sirius will be free. eight hours of pain and he will never have another period, or have to take another potion to keep his body lean and angular, or charm his voice deeper ever again.

the potion is dangerous if mishandled and brought to his bedside very, very carefully be a second healer. she pours it from the silver tube it was delivered in into a small glass.

“drink it up,” the first healer says. “every drop.”

it burns on the way down like firewhiskey.

…

it is a dark and dreary november day and sirius black is seventeen years and one day old.

he cries today because he's happy. it is not weakness.


End file.
